


In a Minute

by ALsannan



Category: Veep
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALsannan/pseuds/ALsannan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan and Amy fight their way through their usual sexual tension. Or maybe they actually are fighting. Or...agreeing? Who can tell anymore?</p><p>Drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Minute

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally pointless, but it was really fun to write. So...I'm sorry.

“I’m going to stab you with the end of this pen cap until I hit an artery.”

 

Dan doesn’t even look up.

 

“What were you thinking? Are you capable of thought? Of higher brain function? Of looking me _in the fucking eye when I’m speaking to you_.”

 

Amy’s voice is reaching that dangerous register where she’s either about to implode or cause him some sort of physical pain but she’s not _quite_ there yet. He’s got some time.

 

He finishes up the text message.

 

“Dan, if you don’t answer for this _massive fuck-up_ you’ve somehow managed to mire me in—”

 

He adds an emoji, just for the hell of it.

 

Amy’s voice is getting louder.

 

“—what to do with whatever’s _left_ of your body—”

 

“I know you like thinking about what to do with my body, Amy,” he cuts in, smirking, taking the innuendo she inadvertently set up for him.

 

He sees her realize it.

 

He smirks harder.

 

“But I have to cut you off because this is not a fuck-up. This is brilliant. This is genius. This is fucking Mozart. I just composed a goddamn symphony and every instrument is giving that fuckbag Furlong the middle finger, so if you’d like to take a second, a breath, or a midol, I’d be happy to explain it to you.”

 

He says most of this while looking down at his phone (sort of because he wants to make sure he doesn’t have any new emails, but mostly because he’s a dick) so by the time he finishes speaking Amy is grinding her teeth together to keep from screaming so hard that it sounds like a growl.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Mike in the doorway. Those big, sad, dairy cow eyes dart between the two of them standing frozen in the center of Selina’s office, staring each other down.

 

Amy’s still growling and fuck if he doesn’t want to blink right now, he can actually feel his eyes watering, but he isn’t going to be the one to break eye contact.

 

Mike just turns around and leaves.

 

“Speak,” Amy finds her voice again, managing to grind out this one word, barely.

 

“Listen, if we let Garrick take the fall for this, we lose the vote but his credibility vanishes into the Nevada Desert quicker than his wife when it’s time for her twice annual rehab stay. The bill doesn’t pass, POTUS looks bad, and Selina’s shit comes out of it all smelling like the only rose in a sea of raw sewage.”

 

She’s still angry and it’s kind of making him hot, actually, though he’s not sure if it’s because he likes getting her worked up or he just likes _seeing_ her worked up. When she gets angry she starts breathing hard and he can see the rise and fall of her tits underneath the strategically planned power blouse she’s wearing.

 

This little miracle of fabric and clothing design might be the number one cause of hostility in their work relationship.

 

Besides that…she just makes it so easy sometimes.

 

“But if we lose Garrick—” she starts.

 

“Do not say healthcare to me, Amy,” he’s waving his finger in her face while she takes a deep breath like she’s getting ready to say _that fucking word_ , “do not say—”

 

“Healthcare Dan!” She yells over him, waving her arms over her head like some sort of demented weather vain, “Healthcare, healthcare, fucking fuckity healthcare!”

 

“We don’t need healthcare!”

 

“Say that again when your dick falls off because you’ve slept your way through the entire secretarial pool of the senate!”

 

She’s pacing now and that’s distracting too, seeing that pencil skirt moving. The fabric pulls in all the right places. He’s seriously starting to wonder if she wears this shit on purpose, like maybe she actually noticed that day in his first month working for the Veep when she wore a dress with cleavage and it took him four hours to write a press release about milk cartons in public school lunches.

 

“Selina can win without healthcare.” Dan says and Amy scoffs. “It wasn’t even her idea in the first place it was that walking bubonic plague Ben who came up with it.”

 

It takes him a second to remember what she said before that. He blames the skirt.

 

“Besides, I have excellent health coverage. This won’t affect any of us. It’s the American people I’m screwing over.”

 

Amy smirks, the corner of her lip curling upward in that dismissive, crush-you-under-my-four-hundred-dollar-heels kind of way that always makes him think about her naked, “Well, you have plenty of experience screwing people over.”

 

“Glad you remember,” he smirks back and watches her face. Watches as she _does_ remember.

 

It’s gone too soon and he immediately starts thinking of other ways to piss her off. He wants to get her blood pumping; to see her cheeks flushed, to see her mouth parted…

 

“This could backfire on us,” she breaks into his increasingly filthy thoughts, worrying her bottom lip, teeth sinking into soft pink flesh, and he wants to tell her to cut it out or better yet to let him take over and—

 

She glances at him and he has to look away.

 

“I swear to God, I’m not going to let that happen.”

 

“I might believe that if you swore to something you actually respected, like your skin care regimen, or your dick.”

 

“That’s what I meant when I said God.”

 

It comes out of his mouth before he can stop it, the (literally) cocky swagger and Amy’s rolling her eyes, walking away.

 

He scrambles to cover his thoughts because it’s the Vice President’s office and it’s inappropriate or something. Vice Presidents and Future presidents have done important shit in here.

 

Though, if he’s being honest, that only makes it better.

 

So he indulges the thought for a moment. Sees himself pulling out the desk chair. Amy sashaying in front of him. Her heels on, his tie off, belt slipping through the loops…

 

“Are you coming?”

 

He jolts as Amy pops her head back through the door. Only takes a moment to appreciate her words. He gives her the wickedest, most filthy grin he can manage.

 

“In a minute.”


End file.
